Forgive Me Father for I have Sinned
by Tyley1
Summary: There are a few sure things, time ends, luck runs out and the world will break your heart. What will happen as they try to cross the lines of the Irish and Italian Mafia? Bella and Edward - WARNING MA MATURE THEMES AND LEMONS
1. Prologue

**~ FORGIVE ME FATHER FOR I HAVE SINNED~**

_DISCLAIMER: I still don't own twilight (sigh) but you probably knew that already…_

_Ok so this is the new story that I am working on, I hope that you will read and review and let me know your thoughts. I am excited about the possibilities!_

_Please Note that this story will deal with adult and mature themes that may not be suitable for all readers. Please do not read if you are not old enough. It is being rated __**M**__ for a reason. _

**Prologue**

**Bella.**

I let out a breath that I hadn't realized that I was holding as I entered St. Vincent's, noticing that for once the pews were empty. The tall stained glass windows spilled in colors of yellows and reds and blues, painting the heavy wooden pews in their sun-drenched colors.

I dipped my finger into the holy water, wondering briefly if the water would boil when I touched it, luckily, it didn't, and I was allowed to make the sign of the holy cross.

I didn't want to chance meeting up with incoming visitors so I kept to the back of the church, until I reached the far right wall, and followed the aisle down to the confessional, my eyes had been trained on my feet all morning, but were now directed at an old brass door knob.

How could I pray for forgiveness when I could not repent?

I let out a harsh breath, knowing that I had no right to be here. But he, or they, if other one was really up there, deserved to know the truth. I may not regret or repent for what I had done, but I would not hide it from them.

I reached for the antiqued knob, pulling the door open and slipping inside the comforting darkness.

I sat for a moment while I waited, regulating my breathing as I heard him enter his side of the booth. I could almost feel the scratching of the privacy screen as if it were grating my skin as the covered window slid open.

I sucked in a deep breath, a final steeling of myself before I began. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…" I said, again making the sign of the holy cross, and bowing my head. "It has been 2 weeks since my last confession."

"And, how did you decide to deal with your thoughts after our last confession?" he asked in his usually warm and concerned but friendly voice. That voice was a piece of my heaven. One I would never reach now, but it enveloped me and covered me. Almost shielding me from what I had done and what I had become.

"I'm not sure I should be saying in god's house." I whispered shakily, losing whatever courage I had held just moments ago.

No one _wants _to go to hell.

"Anything can be said in God's presence Bella."

I sucked in a harsh breath, "Do you have to use my name? What if someone hears you?" I spat out harsher than I hoped for.

"Is there something for you to repent, something we discussed last time?" he asked cautiously, fear entering his tone.

I didn't answer at first. I wasn't sure how to.

Should I repent?

Yes.

Would I?

Never.

"B?"

"It's done." I whispered barley loud enough for him to hear, as I grasped my hands together on my lap to stop them from shaking so harshly.

There was a commotion as the confessional door in front of me was ripped open allowing the amber light of the stained windows to blind me from the quick transition from darkness. My arm was grabbed tightly and I was pulled up and out of my seat.

I gasped at the force of him pulling me, my eyes quickly scanning the rest of the room to make sure no one had seen. Luckily, we were still alone, but I was now being pulled forcefully down the aisle and out the door leading to the rectory.

"What are you doing?" I spat at him as I tried unsuccessfully to make him stop, my dragging feet not even slowing him down. He just kept going pulling me behind him, until we were in the rectory apartment, then his office. He dropped my arm once we were inside with the door closed behind us. He went to a closet and pulled out a large navy blue duffel bag, and then to his desk, where he grabbed a key. His actions were hasty and forceful, darting from one area of the room to the next gathering items while I watched bewildered.

"You have to leave," he said as he stuffed papers into a side pocket of the bag and handed me a small dark blue folder. "I had a feeling that it would come to this…. I'm sorry, but I think I always knew." his words confused me but his quick movements seemed organized and methodical, even as his mumbling seemed unfocused and incoherent. "Should have told her… Should never let this happen… why didn't I see it all earlier, step in?" He continued to rant to himself under his breath almost as if he had forgotten that I was in the room with him.

I stood still watching him with confused eyes, and unsure ears, _what was he talking about?_

He stopped dead in his tracks, remembering it seemed that I was right there with him. He looked up at me with his dark puppy dog eyes. "Bells, you've gotta go, I can't let you take the fall for this. I should have stopped it. Done what I could a long time ago. I was supposed to make this better, and I failed… I'm sorry." His shoulders slumped, and he picked up the bag handing it too me. "Clothes, money, plane tickets…" he said to me as he placed the bag on my shoulder. " There is an address in the bag, go there and stay. A passport in case of extreme emergency, and IDs. I couldn't come up with credit cards." He said as he tapped the blue folder in my hand. "Do what you can to change your appearance. Better safe, than sorry."

"Jake…" I said overwhelmed, I didn't know what to say.

"I love you Bells." He said as he looked into my eyes, gripping both of my shoulders tightly, before he turned my body around pointing me towards the door. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "you've gotta go. Be safe." He kissed the top of my head from behind me before pushing me out in to the hallway and pointing me towards the back door, as he turned and hurried back towards the church.

I watched as one of my only true friends disappeared around the corner, knowing well, that it may be the last time I ever saw him. One of the pieces of my heart, which had already seemly imploded on itself, turned to ash then as he disappeared from sight.

It was for the best though. He needed to be safe; I needed to live with the guilt of what I had done. I didn't deserve him or Rose, or … I shook my head, not allowing myself to even think the name.

No not after everything I had done. I deserved no friendship or loyalty. No love.

Murderers don't deserve forgiveness.

_AN: ok so this is just a prologue, but I wanted to start putting it up to light a fire under a certain place if you know what I mean! _

_Let me know what you think! Reviews are appreciated, and Forces of Nature will continue – no worries there… _

_He all, so I realized there were some errors in my first three chapters, and I don't have a beta so I totally missed them. I am fixing them now. Not too much different in the first three chapters but a little correction and clarification here and there. _

_***If you're a beta and would be interested in lighting a fire under me as well as helping me make this reader worthy shoot me a message!***_

_Thanks!!_


	2. Chapter 1

~ Forgive me Father, For I have sinned ~

**Chapter One**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its original characters. Unless you live under a rock these days, you probably already know that it all belongs to Stephenie Meyers. _

_**CAUTION: This chapter may not be appropriate for all readers. This story contains mature subject matter and this chapter does contain a sexual scene. **_

_**Bella. **_

I was born Isabella Marie Swan September 13, 1988. Daughter of Renee Marcianno and Charles (Charlie) Swan. My mother was of Italian heritage and my father was English. My parents met in college, and though my father was a small town boy, he loved my mother without limits and settled into Boston in order to be with her.

My mother waited to introduce my father to the real Boston until shortly after their marriage, by then there was no way to hide it.

I have been told that it was a struggle for him, coming from a town with a population of less than three thousand, to a metropolis like Boston. To the outside observer Boston is a fun, chic, and sophisticated city. But to those who really know it, the people who live here, they know better.

It's a city much like any other, but if you were looking to draw a comparison, you would have to chose New York City. Much like the villages of Hell's Kitchen and Little Italy, the lines in Boston were clearly drawn between the Italians and the Irish.

It wasn't easy for them as I have been told, my father having to prove himself to my mother's scrupulous familial ties, but it's been said that theirs is a story of love and perseverance, even if they themselves didn't persevere.

My mother meddled in volunteer work, devoted time to the church, used a can of hairspray a day to keep her hair in place for her luncheon with the girls. Renee Marcianno Swan was not a woman who worked. Family money ensured that. My Father was a police officer, and vehemently opposed the use and acceptance of the money, but Renee had her ways to convince him. Of that, I was sure. Clean cops did not make enough money for us to live as we did; not in a city like Boston, and my father was a clean cop. After all that had been our downfall. Clean cops do not last, not in a town this corrupt.

My parents were killed on July 7th, 1993. I was just shy of 5 years old, and from what I have been told the hit was meant for me as well. Since that night my godfather had taken me in, given me his name. It was leaked to the press that I had died as well in order to keep me safe.

It was well known within our family that it was a hit of retaliation. My father had broken a case exposing the Irish mafia's king pin. The message was meant to be clear, kill the cop and his family, and no other cop would dare to risk their own. These facts were my gospel, extricated over the years as I learned to extract the information from my guardian.

The man responsible had thus far had been untouchable. I don't pretend to know enough of this world to understand exactly why my guardian was unable to reach him. From what little I do know, Aro could reach anyone. Nevertheless, he had made sure that the man that had actually pulled the trigger, Shawn McCarty; his black soul had been swept from this earth. Aro had ensured that he met the same fate as my parents. The message that the Irish clan had intended was lost to the fact that when they went after that honest cop, they also took down the only child of a well-known, and well liked Italian boss. The Italians were not ones to sweep things under the rugs, so their reply was sent loud and clear.

_Do your homework. Do not fuck with a Bosses family. _

Aro had taken great care in raising me; never having children of his own, he guarded my life, as though I was the second coming of Christ himself. Although maybe in my case, he may have believed it was more like the Virgin Mary. I had private tutors for years until I convinced him to allow me to go to a regular school. His version of regular was an all girls Roman Catholic School, where the class size was never more than ten. There was a guard on site at all times, and if he had to go out of town for business, I was never left with a family member or a friend, I was always sent to stay at the convent, body guard by my side.

It was at the convent, when I was 15 years old that I first met Rosalie.

As broken as she was, she was still intimidating beautiful. She had come to the convent after a brutal attack. An attack perpetrated by her own father, and I watched from afar as she refused the help and pity of others. She was fierce and strong, beauty personified, but stubborn as hell. Somehow, through her unwillingness to accept pity, and my unrelenting presence telling her to stuff it, we became friends.

She told me of the horrors that she faced in her own home. How she was unable to trust and depend on the very people every little girl should have been able to. It was heart breaking and maddening to listen to her stories of physical and sexual abuse. Nevertheless, she was strong and resilient, and she fought her way through. Rose lived up to her name in every way, strong and beautiful, but if you did not know how to handle her properly, you had better watch out for the thorns.

I had told her story to Aro upon his return, watching as his eyes maddened, and his neck tightened. He could see immediately how taken I was with her, and Aro was always one for making sure that I had everything I wanted and needed. Days later, her parents had signed over guardianship papers before mysteriously meeting their maker. We didn't ask questions.

No one did.

Aro had been quite the guardian over the years. Enrolling Rose in the same schools that I went to, ensuring that we had money and guards for shopping and going out. Making sure that the boys that were allowed in our presence were approved by none other than himself.

Rose was the balance. My wild, to Aro's strict control. She taught me to be confident, and demanding. Strong. She taught me to know my own self worth, and to put myself first. How someone could have gone through the things that she did and end up on the other side of still knowing what she was worth was almost unfathomable to me. She had character unlike anyone I had ever known, tough, beautiful, self-sufficient. She gave me the tools to fight. I had always known that Aro had a plan; I just hadn't realized that his plan would include the rest of my own life.

* * *

"You are so damn hot." He ground out through his gritted teeth as I straddled him on my bed. I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back so that I could lick his Adam's apple.

Traveling up, I bit at his chin, "I love it when you don't shave." I told him, as I ground my hips down on him.

He sucked in a shaky breath as our hips ground together, his ear lobe now in my mouth.

"Bella…" he said, his voice gravelly.

I pulled his hair again so that he was looking at me, "less talk, more action. Get this shit off." I snapped at him, flicking his shirt as I flung my own over my head and off into the corner. I almost laughed as he followed suit, always so eager.

I stood from him, so that I could remove my jeans, kicking them away. He took the 44 from his back and carefully set it on the nightstand, before removing his belt and his own jeans. The heavy wallet, and his cell, still in his pocket causing the denim to thud quickly to the floor. I grinned up at him before stalking forward again.

I wish I could say that the idea of a gun sitting on my nightstand caused me to pause, but as I have learned over the last few years guns, like bodyguards, are just a way of life.

He was standing there, appraising my form, displayed now in only a midnight blue bra and panty set. "Taking too long." I growled at him, as I undid the clasp on the front if my bra, and pushed him hard back on to the bed.

I climbed up after him, resting my knees on either side of his hips, as I licked my way up his chest, my bare breasts running along his abdomen.

"Bel-la" he let out my name in a long ragged breath, "god, what do you want baby?" he asked as his hands traveled through my hair, down around my shoulders, before running his fingers up and down my back.

I rolled us over, as I grabbed his hair again, "you know what I want." I panted to him.

The mischievous grin that lit up his face told me what I needed to know.

_Bella gets what Bella wants._

At least when it comes to Alec. If only everything where this easy.

His grin didn't fade as he ran his palms up my bare thighs, until they rested on my hips, grabbing hold of my panties. I lifted my hips as he slid them down flipping them over his shoulder, dimples in check as he flashed that shit eating grin of his. He licked his lip as his hands traveled back up my thighs, this time not running the same outer circuit of my legs but instead the inside.

I spread legs open a little wider for him just as his hands requested on their way up to my center, his thumbs running over the lips there. "Is this what you want?" he asked in his low baritone voice. I bit my lower lip and nodded my head, as my back arched a bit and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. His fingers were stroking me, just a warm up before the main event. "You're so wet." He whispered huskily as he bent his head down and ran his tongue from the bottom to the top in one long slow motion, the pressure just right. This man was a god with his tongue. I mean he could teach a seasoned lesbian a few new tricks.

I felt my hands grasp the sheets at my side as his mouth worked me from my entrance to my clit and everywhere in between. My body heat was rising and my chest was heaving, eyes still in the back of my head. "Ugnnnn" I let out a slow sound, ready to moan as he worked me. Knowing my sounds by now, he moved up focusing on my clit for me as my panting increased, and the tight knot connecting my lower belly to every other part of me snapped and gave way, my orgasm releasing in waves as he continued his ministrations to ensure my full ride.

I let out a low chuckle when I was done, slapping his head and hands away from my core. "I'm good, I'm good, stop." I told him as he sat back on his knees a longing look on his face.

I climbed up toward to head board flipping down the sheets and settling back against the pillows as I looked back at him. He wiped off his face with the back of his hand, as if he just finished eating his thanksgiving dinner, and missed a little gravy. I reached for a joint from my nightstand drawer and leaned back into the headboard as I popped it between my lips and lit it taking a nice long pull.

His dark brown eyes playing up his disappointment, as his thick brown hair fell into his eyes just a bit. He looking like a lost puppy sitting there pouting like that. I held my hit for a bit, studying him as I twisted the stick in my fingers.

I let out my smoky breath watching it rise towards the white swirly ceiling before looking back at him again. "Don't give me the lip Alec, I told you before we even left the house tonight that I wasn't going to be fucking you."

"Jesus Bella, you don't even fucking cuddle" he spat at me as he rearranged himself in his boxers.

"You're such a girl." I told him as I sank back again, one arm lying by my side rolling the ashes into an ashtray, the other resting on my head. "Get the fuck over it, I don't cuddle. Jesus, this isn't something new." I said as I let my eyes fall shut.

"Yeah, well at some point your gonna have to get over that shit- cause that's not gonna fly forever."

I couldn't help the laughter that escaped from me, "Alec, come on, don't be ridiculous. Nothing is going to change."

He was up from the bed now pulling on his pants, and securing his belt. I watched the muscles of his chest ripple as he bent over to the nightstand and picked up his gun, placing it securely behind him again.

I have to admit it wasn't a bad show. I continued to watch from the corner of my eye as I took another hit, and he made his way over to the corner, bending over to retrieve his shirt while allowing a delicious view of his perfect Italian ass.

He turned back to look at me, the shirt still in his hands, his toned upper body looking delicious as always with his jeans hung low on his hips. "Shit is gonna change Bells," he paused for a moment as if gauging my temperament. "I had a talk with Aro the other day." He said as he slipped his shirt over his head, having not even taken the time to unbutton it earlier.

I let out a yawn, tired of our little game now. "You need to get moving." I told him nodding towards the door, waiving the hand rested above my hand dismissively.

He continued as if he hadn't heard me. "I asked him if I could marry you." He said his voice harsh, as he slipped into his shoes, and checking his phone quickly.

My jaw dropped, I didn't know what to say.

He raised his eyes back up to me, away from his phone. "He said yes." He said as he slid the phone back into his pocket, before leaning down to kiss me on my forehead and leaving.

And so it begins…

* * *

AN: ok again some fixing in this chapter as I revised it 11-2009, sorry for previous errors – I've never had a beta and if you are one and would like to keep an eye on me give me a shout!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own it, just playing around.

**AN:** You will find with the beginning of this story as we introduce the main characters that the chapters go back and forth between the past and the present. It is meant to show how they all came to find themselves in the situation that they do. I hope that it is not too confusing. Soon we will find everyone at the same point, and once we do, the story will flow on without the time changes. Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

**~Forgive me Father for I Have Sinned~**

**Chapter 2**

_The Bible: following the written word_

98…99…100…my pulse was racing and I could feel the sweat streaming down my face and neck as I finished my sit up reps.

"Jake- You 'bout done?" I heard my father calling from in the house.

I jumped up from my makeshift gym that I built in our shed, hurrying to the door.

"Yeah Dad, what's up?" I asked as I peeked my head out the door.

"I was wondering if you could run down to the store, we could use some oil for the fish fry." He answered his voice oddly cold and detached. He had a lot on his mind lately. I think he was still struggling with me joining the force. He himself had been an FBI agent until he was injured in the line of duty, making a wheelchair his primary mode of transportation for the rest of his days. He didn't think much of the profession after his best friend died, and then he ended up in a wheel chair with little more than a gold watch to show for it all.

"Sure thing Dad." I answered as I closed and locked the shed behind me and turned towards him. "Let me just hop in the shower real quick and then I'll run down real quick." I answered as I walked towards him, settling my towel over my shoulders behind my neck.

He looked uneasy as he checked his watch, the Casio, not the gold payoff for the use of his legs.

"Actually Jake, it's getting late, the store closes in about 15 minutes, would you mind running straight over?" he asked as he looked back up at my from his wheelchair.

"Course not Dad." I answered as I sighed.

'Thanks Jake" he answered solemnly as he threw me my keys and headed back into the house.

I made my way over to the VW Rabbit that I built in my Junior Year of High School. At the time, I thought that someday I would open a garage. Fix people's cars for cash and hopefully get lucky enough to fix up some oldies but goodies occasionally, that was before my father's accident, and certainly before, I grew 6 inches in one summer. Now I hated to drive the thing unless it was warm enough to keep the top down, since my head was constantly hitting the top of it otherwise. I backed out of the driveway and head towards Uley's Market on the other side of the Rez. Normally I would have just run over, but if they were closing that soon, I wanted to make sure my Dad got his oil. Don't try and stand between that man and his fish, I almost chuckled to myself.

It was a quiet evening. Not many cars or people out and about on the reservation, they must have been staying inside due to the heat. It was warmer than normal for Washington even in the summer. As I turned the corner I saw one black car driving in from the opposite direction, and straight across from me there were six or seven kids playing around in a dirt lot with a kick ball. It was dry due to the heat, which is almost never the case in our neck of the woods, but the dust from the dirt was floating in the air around the boys running in teams after the red ball.

I took a right at the stop sign noticing Quil outside working on his car, and I honked my horn at him as I went by, hearing him shout in return – "Black! What up?" with a quick waive before ducking back down under the hood.

I grabbed the oil once I got the market, and brought it up to the counter. "Emily." I said with a nod of the head in greeting.

"Jake." She answered with her signature friendly smile. "How's your dad?" she asked with a big grin, She was always a softy for my dad.

I smiled in return, "He's good." I answered, "Oil for the fish fry." I explained indicating the large jug of oil I had placed on the counter.

"Ahhh…" she said nodding her head in reply. " No one get's between that man and his fish"

I laughed since I had just thought the same thing myself only moments ago.

"You know him well," I said handing her a 10-dollar bill. "How's Sam?"

"He's good. Misses you down at the garage still, but good."

"Great, well tell him I said hi-"I said putting the change in my pocket and grabbing the oil.

"Will do." She answered as I reached the door.

My hand reached out to open the door, when I noticed the small sign on the door showing the business hours. I quirked my head to the side, "Em- you guys change your business hours lately?" I asked.

She laughed, "no- those are the same hours we have had since Sam's great Grandma opened this place in 1940. You know how these people are with change…" She answered. "Why?"

"My dad knows your business hours…" I said more to myself than to her.

"Better than I do sometimes" she answered as she came around the corner, looking at me strange.

My head snapped up, "What Jake?" She asked a slight amount of panic in her voice now.

I found my father that night, less than 30 minutes after I had left him. There was a gunshot to his head, and four more to his chest. I guess who ever was responsible had to make sure that the man in the wheelchair really was dead. Sam and Quil found me that night. I don't believe that it was long after I found my father, but time was of no consequence as I said there holding his bleeding, non-breathing form to my chest. The house was devastated, tables and chairs over turned, books and papers strew about. Someone had been there not only to kill my father, but looking for something.

Who?

Why?

What were they looking for?

Did they find it?

Why?

Why?

I laid my father to rest without the answers to my questions. Questions that had become my sole focus. And so my pilgrimage began.

I found my bible, a file left for me by my father, in my little gym six months later. It lay between some towels that I kept stacked on a shelf, a single manila file folder, with a watch left on top. A Casio. Whoever it was that had been here, had not wasted time to look out here. There were pages and pages of information, pictures, and a locker number to where I could find voice tapes. My father had stumbled or forced his way into quite a bit of information. Information that they did not want found.

There was a single hand written letter to me, the words quickly scrawled, I imagine on the day of his death.

_Jake, _

_I'm sorry to leave this for you. To leave __you__ really. But it is out of my control. _

_Finish my work. _

_Protect her. _

_You're the only one who can do it._

_I love you. _

_Dad_

* * *

It took just over 2 hours to get to my destination. Once I was out of the city traffic, getting to the small Oceanside community of Charlestown Rhode Island almost a straight shot. It was far enough away from Boston that it would not draw attention, but still close enough to the Italian influence of Westerly, that we would be able to hear any rumblings.

I pulled the old Ford Crown Victoria up to the small ranch style home, locking the doors carefully before making my way to the side door. I knocked, my other hand pulling on the collar that I still wore. I was quickly greeted by a smaller man with dark hair and beady eyes.

"Number?" his asked, his voice holding quite an air of arrogance for someone so small.

"46231" I answered.

"Password?" he asked.

"Wolf" I answered, letting my eyes scan my surroundings as it was taking me longer to get inside than I had hoped. The short little man still hesitated as he eyed me wearily, his eyes narrowed on me.

"Do you think you were followed?" he asked, his voice a tad higher than before, but you could tell he was trying not to let his fear show.

I huffed a small laugh as I shook my head, "if I thought I was followed, do you think I would have stopped?" I sneered at him.

"Just let him in the god dam door Simmons!" I heard a gruff voice from somewhere inside.

His beady eyes shifted quickly, scanning the yard as well, before he opened the door just wide enough to allow me in, closing it quickly behind me.

I walked through the kitchen noticing two others, one sitting at the table reading a newspaper while the other just finished making a cup a coffee, setting down the spoon that he had used to stir it and leaned back against the counter cup in his hands as he appraised me. I nodded and continued through the living room and down the hall towards the bedrooms.

The house had been completely furnished. It looked like well-used garage sale finds, which kept up the appearance that the house was lived in for anyone who may be checking. One bedroom in the back was set up as an office. I knocked on the door that had only been open a crack, and it swung open a bit more from my fist knocking.

"Black, come on in…it's about time you graced us with your presence." His eyebrow was raised on one side as he did an appraisal much like the guy in the kitchen, his eyes reviewing my form as if to see if anything was out of place.

"Sorry sir." I answered.

He got up and walked around the desk, sitting back on the front of it as he watched me from his new perch. "It's been 2 weeks Black, you know as well as I do that you are supposed to check in every other day by phone and once a week in person. 2 weeks Jake." He said shaking his head. "How do I know you haven't gone Rouge?"

"Come on Webber, you know me better than that." I said as I raised a hand up dismissively, walking away from him towards the window looking out over the back yard. "Shit's getting heavy; I had to be sure I wasn't being watched, save the integrity of the mission, after Chaney's fuck up." I growled.

He nodded to me not saying anything, his arms now crossed over his chest, lips twisted as he thought.

"You're way to personally involved in this Black. I was always worried about this, but now I know. I know I was right. You need to get out before the shit hits the fans."

"I can't just leave now." I told him as I settled back onto the windowsill crossing my legs in front of me, my arms braced on the ledge. "I'm not leaving her there."

"Your Father would understand." He answered me calmly.

I jumped back to my feet, hands in fists, "Fuck that – Sir, – my father would never understand. The one thing he asked me to do before he died was bring Charlie's murderer to justice, and save his child."

"Your father wouldn't want you to do that at your own expense, Sergeant!" he shouted back at me, standing to his own full height to show he was not intimidated. "First and foremost your father would have put you first!" little bits of spit were flying from his mouth as he yelled at me, and the two men from the kitchen were in the door in no time watching us.

"They killed my father, they killed my father's best friend, and they have controlled his best friend's child for years. I can't – no – I won't leave her there." I looked over his shoulder to the two men standing in the doorway, catching Commander Webber's attention this time.

He walked over to the door, and murmured something to them, before they began to walk away and he closed the door behind him to give us some privacy. I watched as he took controlled breaths walking back to his chair, sitting down behind the large desk, and playing with his pen for a second. He raised his head but never made eye contact, "I understand that you need to do this, and your father was a close friend of mine as was Charlie Swan once upon a time." He paused for a minute. "But I'm telling you Jake, you need to be careful in this one, you are way to close. Too personally involved." He clicked his pen once so that it was ready to write, "What do you need?"

* * *

OK you know what to do – let me know what you think….

This chapter was also slightly revised 11-09


	4. Chapter 3

_DISCLAIMER__: I don't own Twilight or the characters, if I did I wouldn't be here, I would be off writing another book for the series, I could deal with a spin off, some Jacob and Renesme stuff with the rest of the clan all mixed in…. _

_REMINDER:__ THIS STORY IS RATED M- you know what that means, so if you shouldn't be reading this then please don't. _

_Sorry it has taken me so long to get my act together…_

_***If you know a beta or are a beta that would be interested in keeping me in line, let me know!***_

**~Forgive me Father for I have sinned~**

Chapter 3

~*~

Edward.

Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if just one thing had been different?

What would Emmett be like today if his father were alive? Would he still always be scheming, always looking for an angle, or some hand to bid on?

What would have happened to Jasper if Alice Brandon never moved to town? Jail? Dead? Worse?

What would my life have been like if my parents had run away?

I knew the stories. They were told like lore.

The Cullen clan hadn't moved to America all that many generations ago, and still held many ties to the old country even today. My grandfather, the first Edward Cullen, set things in motion for our family to become what it was today. His father had been a mill worker. A hard working shift manager, who looked out for the boys on his team. However, the upper management was always there to bring them down. My grandfather wanted more out of life than just trying to make ends meet, living paycheck to paycheck, and hoping he didn't lose his job. Praying that they could keep the heat on all winter long. Edward Senior decided to start taking what he wanted. He started out in underground fighting rings earning cash and a name for himself. When the unions struck up he planted himself at the head of one as soon as possible, one of the few union leaders of the time that was not Italian in this guiney town. It was for his own protection and those of his friends, family, and neighbors. While Edward the first, had wanted more, it wasn't only for himself that he wanted it. He found himself more times than once in run ins of the Italian persuasion. Tensions were always high, but it usually ended with bloodied fights and long, back room meetings. There were very few blatant killings for a long time.

Until there was.

My parents were set to move away. They met in high school, fell in love, and wanted a better life, a different life for their future family. That all ended the night that my grandfather was killed. My mother Esme, had been hit with a stray bullet, the wound was not fatal, at least not to her, but there was a sibling, an older brother perhaps, that I would never know.

There was a new boss in town, and his first move had been to take out the Irish opposition. Edward was dead, Esme was in the hospital losing a child, I was not born yet, and Carlisle was furious. It has been said that for a long time all he wanted was revenge. Tensions in the city had never been so high, and haven't been since. Carlisle took over as head of the family, unable to let the new Italian boss have the full reign he wanted, and while Carlisle sought his revenge, he still always kept an eye on the neighborhood. After all that is what this family had set out to do in the first place. Protect each other; enable the good Irish men of the community to work in a manner that would properly provide for their families. He refused to allow the drugs and prostitution on our streets. Boston had become a city divided.

Still today, there are areas that are free and others that are not. The Chinese mafia, for China town, Little Italy, for the Italians of course, and the borough, where most Irish and Scottish descendants ended up. The rest of the city was free reign, but you had to watch your back. Most tourists were ok regardless of where they scoured about, but for Boston blood, if you were Irish or Italian you knew well where the lines were drawn. You knew the black, white, and grey areas.

My family was not the only to be affected in the changing of the guard. Jasper had no family left other than Emmett, Alice and myself. He lost a sister and a set of parents. Emmett lost his father, and while my parents were alive, we were not the family that they had always dreamed of.

Emmett McCarty Senior was killed by Volturi henchmen. He had been blamed for the hit against a cop with ties to the old and new Italian boss. Charlie Swan was his name, and he was gunned down in his car along with his wife and kid. It was a crock of shit though, Emmett McCarty Sr. was no saint; don't get me wrong, but he sure as hell would never pulled a hit on a woman or a kid, a dirty cop yeah, but not a kid. My parents would have never ordered such a thing, and for McCarty to be the hit man, Carlisle would have had to order it. Not fucking likely.

Everything changed after that night. Since then, we took actions we never would have before, but it was always for the same cause. The safety of our neighborhood. The Italians wanted nothing more than to come in and steal from the hardworking Irish businessmen and women, taking money for 'protection', selling drugs and bodies on our streets._ They_ were what we needed protection from. What a fucking joke. I knew that there was more than one time over the years that Carlisle and Esme wanted out. I also knew that they would never turn their backs on their friends, their people. Our friends, our people. I was stuck now too. How could I ever decide not to fight for the rights of those I loved? That would be more wrong than the shit we did to ensure those rights.

****

"Eddie my boy," Corley fucking Callahan sat in his chair outside the barbershop looking like the cat that caught the canary as he rubbed his hands together and looked me over.

"Corley" I nodded at him as I kept walking. He always was a nosey fucker. The last thing I wanted to do was stop and shoot the breeze with the likes of him.

" 'ear yer boy Emmett gone and got himself in some shit again." He grinned at me, watching to see if I knew what he was talking about. He was such a fucking gossiping old bitty you'd think he was a woman.

"Emmett's usually up to something." I replied as I tried to pass by without furthering our conversation. It was true Emmett was always into something or another. Fucking kid always thought that he was lucky, but damn it to hell, they wrote that saying about him 'if he didn't have bad luck he'd have no luck at all' with him in mind. Just like his father, Emmett was bound to get his ass shot for something either stupid or something he didn't do. It was almost a waiting game, and I was constantly on guard when it came to my best friend. Except when it came to the town gossip here.

"Well seems he really fucked up this time huh?" he added to my back as I walked by.

I turned to look at him after hearing just how serious his tone had gotten, "What do you mean Corley?"

****

"What the fuck did you do now Emmett?" I yelled out as I slammed through the doors of McCarty's Pub.

He was sitting on a bench at a table in the back, shadows playing on the walls keeping his face in the dark.

My eyes scanned the area as I passed through, more on guard than normal. Jasper was at the bar with Alice, he was leaning back, eyes slowly scanning the area between me and the meathead I called a friend, taking it all in. Alice's feet dangled off the stool that she sat upon sipped her beer a devious smirk on her face as she watched Jasper.

"Don't 'cha be too hard on 'im now Edward." Mama McCarty's heavy Irish accent came at me, flitting through the air as she wiped down a glass. I nodded at her as I walked to him briskly, grabbing him by the arm and roughly pulling him into the back.

He knew he was wrong, I would have never been able to move his 6'4 burly frame if he hadn't allowed it, I was no slouch but Emmett was a fucking mack truck. "Spill."

"For fucks sake Eddie, they put another lien on the bar, I did what I had to do." He spit at me as he wrenched his arm out of my grasp.

I kicked over the trashcan, hearing it clang against the floor. "You eejit! It was an Italian job!" I shouted at him.

"Fuck those Bombay shitehawks! Jimmy Dice don't scare me, I am not about to fuck'n let Ma's place go under. It's all she has fucking left Edward!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I leaned my head back. "It wasn't Jimmy Dice," I ground out, "it was fucking Alec Trombino!" I shouted at him as I kicked the fucking wall next to me. "Do you know what that means?" I clenched my jaws and breathed through my nose a few times trying to unclench my fists and keep myself from hitting my best friend in the thick fucking head. "That means it was a directive from fucking Aro himself!" I ground out. "And I heard about it walking down the mother fucking street! fucking Callahan sitting outside that fucking barber shop just fucking letting that shit spill from his chatty cathy lips! _HE_ fuck'n tells me this shit! That means people know – they know it was you, I can't keep cleaning this shit up Emmett!" I yelled and let my fist fly, throwing it through the sheet rock instead of his head.

"Fuck Alec too, those fucking Italians have gotten away with more than enough shit." Emmett steeled himself, straightening up to his full height.

"I get it Emmett, why you feel the need to do this shit, but fucking with Alec , fucking Aro? Are you god damn stupid? Do you realize the shit storm this is going to bring down?" I growled, yeah fucking growled, "Fucking with the Italians? It's not about you and me, what about your Ma? Or Alice? You think of them?"

"I'll keep them safe."

I let out a huff, "We'll…" I said through gritted teeth, "we'll keep them safe. We're fucking family and I am not about to turn my back on you, but if you needed money you should have come to me."

He kicked at the trash on the floor. "I'm sick and tired of you and your pops paying our way." He said.

"Yeah well, it's a shit ton better that a signed death warrant. What the fuck did you take anyway?"

"It was a truck of goods. I thought I could just re-sell the shit and make a few bucks but fuck me, its fucking little white statues of the Virgin Mary. How the hell am I supposed to sell off black market religious paraphernalia?"

I almost laughed at him; this was just what would happen when an idea skittered across his walnut sized brain. When the hell was this kid going to learn that his shenanigans never worked the way he wants them to? Nothing ever panned out for this kid they way he imagines it.

"Where is it?" I gritted out.

He looked a bit remorseful now, knowing what I was going to have to do.

"It's at the mill on Sudsbury Street."

I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth trying to count to ten and not getting past 3, cause I really just wanted to scream or hit _something_. "Just fucking keep it low until I talk to Carlisle." I told him before turning to the door. I looked back at him when I reached the door; he was already bent down, cleaning up the trash "I fucking mean it Emmett. Stay low."

He looked up at me, a little remorse flashing in his eyes as he nodded at me.

I slammed my way back through the bar, noticing Alice's eyes still on me as Jasper's narrowed towards the back door which still closed off Emmett from the rest of us. She opened her mouth to say something, but I just couldn't hear it right now, so I shook my head trying to tell her to keep her mouth shut.

I took a deep breath when I got back to the street, looking around to make sure nothing looked out of place. Who the fuck knows what those statues held, or what they were going to hold soon.

I needed to talk with Carlisle.

_SMASH_, the Wedgewood vase hit the wall behind me.

"You have got to be kidding me Edward!" Carlisle shouted. "Can't you boys stay out of trouble for 1 day?" he was angry. He didn't throw things until he was very angry. "Where is the truck?"

"He's got it at the old mill house." I answered. You don't withhold information from Carlisle Cullen, even if he is your father.

He glared at me as he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Shawn? I need you to go down to the old mill house and pick something up... No not now, later tonight. It needs to be dropped on… Marcel Street… Yeah get in, get out, take someone with you, check out what they got in there, but leave the stock in tact… call me when it's done." He finished his conversation and hung up the phone.

"I will get this taken care of- but you stay the hell out of trouble for fucks sake." He said pointing at me, "now get the fuck out of here before I decide to kick your ass and Emmett's for being so stupid!"

I left quickly. I hated feeling like a failure to Carlisle, seeing that look in his eyes. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot he asked of me, keep my shit straight, get a degree, keep yourself and your friends in line. It was always the last one that fucked me up. If it wasn't one thing it was another and usually from Emmett, but the others got their fucking noses dirty sometimes too. Alice was a fucking klepto. She didn't steal from people directly but that girl was a power shop lifter. It's like she couldn't help herself, her hand touched it and it had to go home with her, and not by paying for it. We tried to keep her out of the stores as much as possible, but when she did shop we'd taken to bringing her to Rhode Island, at least the malls there weren't rife with police and Italians that new who she was to us. Jasper couldn't fucking back down from a fight to save his life. He either had a death wish, or needed to prove to everyone in the world that he wasn't scared of shit. Either way it didn't make my job any easier.

I needed a fucking break. To get my mind off this shit, I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. I needed to drive this shit out.

~*~

AN:

The name Corley is an Irish name with the meaning of the instigator, I thought it was fitting for our jabber jaw.

PLEASE do not take offense to any irish or Italian sterio types, name calling etc.. I am of itialian heritage, and my mother who is Italian was raised by an irish catholic family from the time she was 8 years old so there is no offense or disregard meant to anyone, its just fiction and how I think the characters in this particular story would act/speak.


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